"Ah, yes," she replied, calmly, coming back into the hall. "We used to call him Cousin Quicksilver." In the big avenue Aristide hailed a passing cab. "To the Hôtel du Luxembourg--at a gallop!" In the joyous excitement of the past few hours this child of impulse and sunshine, this dragon-fly of a man, had entirely forgotten the appointment at two o'clock with the American millionaire and the fortune that depended on it. He would be angry at being kept waiting. Aristide had met Americans before. His swift brain invented an elaborate excuse. He leaped from the cab and entered the vestibule of the hotel. "Can I see M. Congleton?" he asked at the bureau. "An American gentleman? He has gone, monsieur. He left by the three-thirty train. Are you M. Pujol? There is a letter for you." With a sinking heart he opened it and read:-- DEAR SIR,--I was in this hotel at two o'clock, according to arrangement. As my last train to Japan leaves at three-thirty, I regret I cannot await your convenience. The site of the hotel is satisfactory. Your business methods are not. I am sorry, therefore, not to be able to entertain the matter further.--Faithfully, WILLIAM B. CONGLETON. He stared at the words for a few paralyzed moments. Then he stuffed the letter into his pocket and broke into a laugh. "_Zut!_" said he, using the inelegant expletive whereby a Frenchman most adequately expresses his scorn of circumstance. "_Zut!_ If I have lost a fortune, I have gained two devoted friends, so I am the winner on the day's work." Whereupon he returned gaily to the bosom of the Bocardon family and remained there, its Cousin Quicksilver and its entirely happy and idolized hero, until the indignation of the eminent M. Say summoned him to Paris. And that is how Aristide Pujol could live thenceforward on nothing at all at Nîmes, whenever it suited him to visit that historic town. III THE ADVENTURE OF THE KIND MR. SMITH